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The lost pleiad ; and other poems

Chivers, T. H. (1809-1858)

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THE LOST PLEIAD:
 
TO MY MOTHER IN HEAVEN.
 
THE ORPHAN'S PRAYER.
 
THE WIFE'S LAMENT FOR HER HUSBAND LOST AT SEA.
 
TO ONE IN HEAVEN.
 
THE GEORGIAN CAPTIVE.
 
APOSTROPHE TO TIME.
 
CAROL.
 
TO ALLEGRA FLORENCE IN HEAVEN.
 
THE SOUL'S DESTINY.
 
SHELLEY.
 
TO MY FIRST-BORN IN HEAVEN.
 
ON THE DEATH OF MY FIRST-BORN.
 
LAMENT ON THE DEATH OF MY MOTHER.
 
WASHINGTON.
 
THE HEAVENLY VISION.
 
TO SHAKSPEARE DYING.
 
MY SOUL'S JEWEL.
 
THE SALUTATION.
 
SONNET.—TO ISA SLEEPING.
 
SONNET.—THE HUSBAND'S REQUEST.
 
SONNET.—ON THE DEATH OF MY MOTHER.
 
LAMENT ON THE DEATH OF MY MOTHER.
 
THE POET'S LOVE OF FAME.
 
SONG TO ISA.
 
SPRING.
 
SONNET.—MY MOTHER'S LOVE.
 
SONNET.—DEATH.
 
THE PARTING APPEAL.
 
THE PIQUE.
 
AWAKE FROM THY SLUMBERS.
 
THE VOICE OF MY DELIGHT.
 
THE DYING POET.
 
SONG TO ISA IN HEAVEN.
 
SONNET.—MEMORY.
 
SONNET.—THE DYING HUSBAND TO HIS WIFE.
 
TO ALLEGRA FLORENCE.
 
THE VOICELESS EARTH.
 
SONNET.—ON HEARING OF THE DEATH OF MY MOTHER.
 
SONNET.—THE GRAVE.
 
THE CONFESSIONAL.
 
OH, BREAK THE HARP!
 
THE EVENING LAND.
 
ON HEARING VON WEBER'S LAST WALTZ.
 
THE MOTHER'S LAMENT ON THE DEATH OF HER CHILD.
 
GOD DWELLS IN LIGHT.
 
ON HEARING A LADY SING.
 
TO MARION IN HEAVEN.
 
TO A LADY SINGING.
 
TO ISA.
 
THE SERENADER'S SONG.
 
ANACREONTIQUE.
 
TO ISA.
 
TO ISA.
 
TO JESSE.
 
SONG TO A FALSE ONE.
 
THE POETRY OF LOVE, JOY, AND GRIEF.
 
TO A BEAUTIFUL LITTLE GIRL.
 
FIRST LOVE.
 
SONG TO SPRING.
 
THE DEATH OF JEFFERSON.
 
THE INVOCATION.
 
A LONGING TO KNOW.
 
THE CHERISHED FLOWER.
 
TO ONE FAR AWAY.
 
THE SPIRIT'S YEARNINGS.

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TO A BEAUTIFUL LITTLE GIRL.

Thou hast not mourned, sweet dove!
But wearest the aspect of immortal youth!
Thou art like Peace begotten of pure Love,
Nursed by Religion in the Bowers of Truth,
And on Ambrosia, which the Months do bring,
Fed by the Spirit of perpetual Spring.
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Thou wert not born to die!
The grave could feel no pride in burying thee!
Death would not dare to look thee in the eye—
Or, if he did, those smiles of purity,
Like streams of light descending from above,
Would melt his icy heart to tears of love.
There is not one on earth,
Nor in the Heaven above, like thee, sweet One!
Thou look'st as if God's smiles had given thee birth—
Sent on the wings of morning from the Sun—
A chrysolite of joy—of light divine—
I would not give for earth, if thou wert mine!
New York, June 8th, 1838.
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